Our Sister Sardonyx | ×

12 | too many questions and one major mistake

“Hey, are you okay?”

That statement alone made me wince. It's something I hate hearing. That and, “How are you?” make me want to run away from civilization until I reach an ocean and drown in it.

“H-huh?” I spurted, caught unprepared.

“You didn't show up to school yesterday. I was worried you were just here for the day,” they explained.

I stared at them dumbfounded. It felt crazy that so much happened in such a short space of time. It hasn't even been a month since I moved in with my family, and it's just nearly three days since I started school and met D'Angelo and Lyric.

“Sardonyx?” they clicked their fingers in my face and took a large step back.

Lee blinked at me, confused. “Sorry, I- I was sick yesterday,” I fibbed. Poorly.

“Oh—” The bell interrupted them. It was either going to be it, or D'Angelo anyway, because he came right up with a gushing mouthful about this girl in his grade called Venus or Pluto, I couldn't pay all attention with my head threatening to snap itself off my neck.

“She keeps putting me off as if I'm some nagging child. One minute we're near kissing, the next, she's got the walk her pet fish ten miles to and fro so she'll check when she's free next week,” he complained but without an ounce of bitterness. He sounded more upset than angry, even though he was trying to hide it.

Lee simply patted him on the back, stiffled a laugh and nodded in all the right places before pushing off in hurry to their class. I had been craving to buzz off too but when I got the chance, I forgot how injured I was.

D'Angelo lurched forward when I nearly took a tumble. I winced I tried to ignore the pain as I hurried to my class myself but he was going in the same direction.

“Whoa, what's up with your walk? You're hobbling around like a gremlin with only three quarters of a right leg,” he said in what I was learning to be his normal teasing tone, only a little more steely, showing the small bit of dislike he still had towards me.

“I twisted my ankle yesterday,” it was easier to lie to him because he was far less earnest than Lee, and nowhere near as scary as my brothers despite his tough seeming exterior.

I managed to escape his response for most of the day. I was fine as long as I stayed in my seat. I thought I was really over reacting earlier. People seemed to have stopped looking at me that much and I thought I would just get to listen to Lee And D'Angelo's entertaining banter as I waited for Grey to come get me. Everything was going to be fine and normal and stay hidden and personal.

What a fool.

Lunch went downhill like an avalanche on mountain I was trying to climb but lost my grip on.

“Sardonyx? Why are you limping?” Lee started out by asking once I reached their—our—spot under the guava tree.

“I sprained my ankle yesterday,” I repeated, thanking the heavens I was smoother than before with them.

“I thought you said you were sick yesterday,” they raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, with a sprained ankle,” I said, but it came out sounding more like a question.  The two exchanged quick glances.

“How did you sprain it?” Lee tried to say casually, but their words were laced with persistence.

“Uh,” I fidgeted plucking grass whilst simultaneously cursing the gears in my brain for not working fast enough. “Stairs... Fell down the stairs. Yeah? Yeah... I fell down the stairs.”

Both of them gawped at me in shock. I had to rearrange my words fast.

“I mean—I tripped on the stairs,” I lied. “I barely tumbled, see, just misplaced my foot in between the banister.”

Lyric stared, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. D'Angelo scarcely believed me and made no effort to hide it. Lee opened their mouth but I caught sight of D'Angelo nudging them against argument.

I just put on a little fake smile to ease the silent tension, but Lee's worries only moved on to yet another sore topic.

“Are you two going to stay freeze-framed forever? The break is nearly over. Stuff yourselves while you can or else I might,” D'Angelo said, feigning cheek to mask his curiosity-over-concern.

His playful threat made me stiffen and James immediately flashed in my mind. I got lost in the dreadful thought of how I was going to eat with him stealing my meals right under my fingers and the kitchen having become Pandora's Box. As if that future worry wasn't enough, Lee, in a way, inserted it  right into the present.

“Where's your food, Sardonyx? I haven't seen you with a trace of even an apple before.”

“For fuck's sake, you just met her,” he grumbled from his favourite branch up in the tree.

“So?”

“So how could you possibly have a file documenting her daily routine and requirements like some fucking baby chick?” D’ hissed.

“It's okay, okay?” I said, hating being the cause of conflict between them. “I'm just not hungry.”

It was D'Angelo's turn to make my life harder. He scoffed and jumped expertly straight down the tree.

“Please, it's been an entire school day, in the middle of a heatwave, on a Monday—”

“It's Wednesday,” Lee interrupted, but he waved away their correction.

“How can you not be hungry? Especially when you've practically been pulling yourself through quicksand all day too.”

I really was feeling fifteen times worse than he'd described. The loose and breezy but long clothes I had on punished me even more. I wished I was wearing a cotton top and pair of shorts like the other girls, but the other girls didn't have scars and marks to hide. Or at least, none as fresh and gruesome as mine.

I fidgeted even more, plucking out chunks of lawn idly, avoiding their eyes. I heard Lee take a small breath at my lack of response and spurted out before D’ could stop them.

“You're not starving yourself, are you?” they said slowly, in a low voice as if their words were top secret coordinates to Escobar's millions.

It was my turn to stare. My mind had gone completely blank. What? Why? How? A billion questions poured out of my mouth. It didn't make any sense to me, why would I starve myself?

But in my confusion, I didn't realise D'Angelo and Lee saw this as defence, and immediately thought it was true. I couldn't really blame them, I was terribly underweight. They must have thought I got to that state by choice.

What I did realise were their concerned looks. What I said next was supposed to comfort them, if I had taken the time to arrange them. All this talking overwhelmed me. I was used to three words at a time. ‘Yes, sir,’ ‘I'm sorry, sir,’ ‘Of course, sir,’ were practically engraved into my retina.

“I-I'm not starving myself! There's food at home; I'm just supposed to—I mean able— I mean can take it.”